Barabas Monologue from The Jew of Malta

From The Jew of Malta by Christopher Marlowe

male · defiant · 59 sec

Ay, fare you well. See the simplicity of these base slaves, Who, for the villains have no wit themselves, Think me to be a senseless lump of clay, That will with every water wash to dirt! No, Barabas is born to better chance, And fram'd of finer mould than common men, That measure naught but by the present time. A reaching thought will search his deepest wits, And cast with cunning for the time to come; For evils are apt to happen every day. But whither wends my beauteous Abigail? O, what has made my lovely daughter sad? What, woman! moan not for a little loss; Thy father has enough in store for thee.

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